


Frank Conversations

by afteriwake



Series: And Now I'm Learning You [17]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four days after Sherlock mentions Khan's special skill set he is sent by Mycroft to discuss with Khan exactly what that skill set is. But the conversation takes a turn that neither Khan or Sherlock expected, and by the time it's over Khan begins to wonder if he really can have a life that isn't simply fighting a battle of one sort or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frank Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a lot of fics for this series over a span of twenty-four hours (mostly because I got hit with a few ideas I really wanted to explore). I apologize that I'm bombarding everyone all at once with them.

Four days had gone by and at the moment Khan and Molly were relaxing in their room. It was only the mid-morning for Molly but for Khan it was late in the evening thanks to the time differences between time on the TARDIS and time outside the TARDIS. All he'd wanted to do when he got back was rest and wait for his injuries to start healing, and Molly had agreed to keep him company until he finally fell asleep. They were in bed talking when there was a knock at the door. “Who's there?” Khan asked, slightly irritated.

“Your brother,” Sherlock replied.

Khan sighed. “I don't want to deal with this right now,” he grumbled.

“Give us a moment to get decent,” Molly said loudly, getting out of the bed. She looked around for something to wear as a bottom, and she settled on a skirt, pulling it on quickly.

“Hopefully he'll be quick,” Khan replied, sitting up with a grimace. He didn't plan on putting on a shirt for their unexpected guest, and he supposed he was thankful he'd already put on pyjama bottoms. He nodded to Molly, who went over and opened the door for Sherlock. “What do you want?”

“Mycroft wants to know more about this special skill set you've suddenly developed so if asked we're all on the same page,” he said.

“You're the one who chose to tell that particular lie, Sherlock,” Khan said. “I'm sure you can come up with something.”

“Well, it's more truthful than it is a lie,” Molly pointed out. “And it probably is something all of us should know. Greg is a cop, after all. He's going to have questions on exactly what criminal details were left off your record.”

“Very well,” Khan said. “First off, we should probably be ready to tell people that most of my past history from after I turned seventeen was concocted with Mycroft to cover up what I was really doing, which is probably the most truthful thing we're telling people.”

“Well, Mycroft would be the type to protect one of his brothers by doing that,” Sherlock said. “He's done it by helping me fake my death, and he's done it on a few other occasions that I know of.”

“I suppose we could go with me being a mercenary for hire,” Khan replied. “That could also be the reason why the only other members of the family don't choose to talk to me. Too violent for their taste.” Sherlock looked down and Khan groaned. “Don't tell me I actually have to meet your parents. I do not know enough about the first seventeen years of Carlton's life to fool them.”

“My mother is curious as to why Carlton came back and hasn't spoken to her or my father,” Sherlock said. “Mycroft told her you've basically disowned everyone and you just barely tolerate him. So far she doesn't seem to be pushing for a reconciliation, but that could change.”

“This was not what I needed,” he said, shutting his eyes.

“Could I interject for a moment?” Molly said. “The Doctor has access to all sorts of technology. Maybe there's something that could transfer over memories that Sherlock and Mycroft have to Khan?”

Both men were quiet. “It could work,” Khan said slowly. “I just don't know if I want another man's memories in my head, no matter how useful it would be.”

“Maybe there is a way for them to be separated and accessed only when needed,” Sherlock said. “We could ask him.”

“I suppose I need to do this soon?” Khan asked.

“I would. But let's concentrate on your new background for the moment. Where would you have been and what would you have done specifically?” Sherlock asked.

“Your brother left in 1998, correct?” Khan asked him.

“Yes. January 2nd, four days before our birthday,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“And that was before this whole mess the world is embroiled in with the Middle East started?”

“It was 1999 when America had the terrorist attacks,” Sherlock replied.

“Then I could have conceivably been involved in all of that,” Khan said. Then he was quiet for a moment. “Who knew about the schizophrenia diagnosis?”

“Mum, Dad, Mycroft and I. Mum and Dad never seemed to believe it, though.”

“That helps.” Khan pulled the sheet and blanket off of him and then he gingerly stood up, beginning to move as he thought. Sherlock's eyes were wide and Khan noticed after a moment. “What?”

“What exactly happened to you while you were gone?” he asked quietly.

“I suspect I have at least six broken ribs and my left wrist is broken,” Khan said. “Not to mention the countless bruises from being on the receiving end of a beating with a lead pipe.” He shrugged just a little, because anything more would have been extremely painful. He was used to healing quickly but until he did it could be quite uncomfortable. “I let them do it to lull them into a false sense of security. As it stands, of the five men involved in attacking me, two are going to be paralyzed from the waist down and a third is going to need a cane for the rest of his life.”

“And the other two?” he asked.

“They were just the ones interrogating me as opposed to delivering the beating. After a few months in a full body cast I doubt they'll try to do that to anyone else.”

“You are much more brutal than I was,” Sherlock said.

“Well, it's having results you weren't able to obtain,” Khan said. “I imagine as soon as I can get to whoever is still calling the shots and neutralize them no one will even consider laying a finger on you, I or anyone either of us care about. It will be over.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. “Do you feel anything remotely like remorse for what you do?”

He held Sherlock's gaze. “Not particularly, no. Each one of those men came into the situation with the express intent of killing me. I want to make sure they regret that decision. Understand that I was born and bred for war, Sherlock. It's the entire reason I was created in the first place. When I no longer have a war to fight I will go back to what is generally considered a normal life. But this? Taking care of your enemies to keep Molly and her friends safe? I look at this as another battle, and it's one I absolutely refuse to lose.” 

Sherlock nodded slowly. “You're doing what I wasn't capable of doing, which is why I think it's a good thing you're fighting this battle and not me.”

“Did you kill anyone while you were doing this?” Molly asked Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, looking over at Molly. “Only in self-defense, though. And that was before there was a price on my head. I imagine that I was an annoyance before. Khan is an actual threat.” Then he turned back to Khan. “How many have you killed?”

“Two,” he said. “Both of them didn't have the good sense to stay down and they shot at me so I shot back. I had better aim.”

“And how many people have you dealt with total?” he asked.

Khan thought for a moment. “Nearly two hundred and fifty. Possibly more. I keep encountering groups of ten to twenty people at once. Today was less than normal, which I suppose should be a sign that I'm truly getting the desired results.”

Sherlock's eyes widened again. “And you injure _all_ of them without serious injuries to yourself? I mean, injuries you can't recover from?”

Khan nodded. “I've taken down entire units in battle single-handedly before, in the war I fought back home. And they were armed with superior weaponry, so taking care of twenty men who have archaic guns who aren't especially trained for war is not that hard. And once I get a hold of one of their weapons then the fight suddenly goes in my favor.”

“I'm not sure whether to be concerned or impressed,” Sherlock said bluntly.

“Do you want this criminal network to not be a problem anymore?” Khan asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“Then settle on impressed.” He started moving again. “Back to what we were originally talking about. I'm sure your brother can figure out any number of groups I could have been attached to that would be for hire if it came time to take care of a threat. But he should choose one with minimal military ties. I doubt if anyone had even an inkling of your brothers’ diagnosis they would have allowed him to be on that team. Too dangerous for the others. As for my particular skill set, I excel at unarmed hand to hand combat and using just about any item as a weapon, though I do know how to use most forms of actual weaponry from this era. I'm also a master tactician, if that were to come up.”

Sherlock nodded. “I'll relay that to Mycroft,” he said. He moved back to the door.

“Are you afraid of me?” Khan asked quietly before Sherlock opened it.

Sherlock was quiet for a full minute. “No, I'm not. And _that_ is what scares me.” He opened the door. “I'll see about making sure no one sees you until you're fully healed.”

“Thank you,” Khan replied. With that, Sherlock left the room, and he moved over to Molly, sitting down next to her. “I suppose I should ask if I scare you next,” he asked softly.

She looked at him intently and shook her head. “I don't like knowing the details. I don't like knowing exactly how badly you hurt the people trying to hurt me and my friends. But no, you don't scare me. I trust you not to hurt me.”

“I will never purposefully hurt you,” he said, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And if I ever accidentally hurt you, I will do everything I can to make it up to you.”

“I know you will,” she said, giving him a small smile. Then she leaned in and kissed him softly. He used his hand to keep her close, but the kiss wasn't an all-consuming passionate kiss like they usually shared. It was soft and simple, a way for her to let him know she cared greatly. When she pulled away she stayed close to him. “You should lie back down and get some rest.”

“Doctor's orders?” he said with a small smile.

“Doctor's orders,” she replied with a soft laugh. She pulled away and got off the bed, taking her skirt off and simply leaving it on the floor before climbing back into bed. Khan got up and went to the other side of the bed and got in himself, laying back down on his back. She carefully curled up next to him on her side and he reached over and ran a hand along the bare skin on her arm. He was thankful she wasn't afraid of him, more thankful than she would ever realize, but he knew, deep down, that she deserved better than a person like him, a normal person who didn't look at life as a series of battles to be won. He just hoped the part of him that loved her would be strong enough to keep those thoughts buried deep down inside himself.


End file.
